


This lost soul of mine

by decievedead



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, Super Dangan Ronpa 2
Genre: Frontotemporal Dementia, Hinata hajime - Freeform, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Mental Breakdown, Mental Instability, Nagito Komaeda - Freeform, POV First Person, Self-Doubt, Self-Harm, Self-Hatred, Sick Komaeda Nagito, Suffering Komaeda Nagito, Super Dangan Ronpa 2 Spoilers, danganronpa - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-21
Updated: 2020-12-21
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:35:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28225491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/decievedead/pseuds/decievedead
Summary: Just something I wrote a while back in the view of Nagito during a mental breakdown, unkowning of his illness causing him to act in such ways.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 30





	This lost soul of mine

**Author's Note:**

> This could be triggering for some readers!! It includes slight self harm mentions and an aggressive mental breakdown. Please only read if you won't be risking your own saftey.
> 
> (Also, chapter two of All i need is your touch will be out soon ;)

I had a breakdown today.  
It’s been months since the last one, and I’d say this comes close to topping them all.  
I was drowning in myself, with no escape or hope of rescue. I felt so, so angry, for no reason at all. There was nothing for me to take the anger out on, other than myself. That’s what I did, I abused myself in hopes of releasing this horrible feeling inside of me. Hitting my head repeatedly did nothing, neither did tugging at my thinning hair or punching my stomach. It's only effect leaving deep bruises all over my disgustingly pale skin. Usually it helps in some way, or at least it used to. I’ve never recalled feeling this hopeless before, there was nothing to help me, at all. I was a pit of despair hiding behind a false hope I could never dream to achieve. A false hope my bony hands coudln't help but cling to. In the end, I curled myself into a ball, and lay under the desk in my dimly lit room, weeping. It was a pitiful sight to say the least, I’m glad no one had to see it. They'd point and laugh at my stupidity, giving me yet another reason to hate the body I inhabited. 

The whole time I laid there, it felt as if my emotions were at war with each other. One moment I’d feel at ease, the next that horrendous surge of anger was ripping its way back in, and i'd find myself clenching my fists tightly. My memories were blurry, I had no track of time whatsoever, I was just there. In the end, I calmed myself enough by focusing on thoughts that helped ever so slightly, such as him. Him with his fluffy brown hair, him with his perfect figure. But it didn’t end there, I managed to nap for a while on my bed, but as soon as I awoke I was stuck in the same never ending rollercoaster of strange emotions that I was before. My thoughts were rapidly switching between positive ones, and negative ones. It was as if they weren’t my own, I had no control. Control is something I must have, no matter what, so you can imagine how confused I was. It was my body, right? Why do I always feel so out of place? Why do I have such little control over actions most people would? I feel separated from myself, I don’t even feel like I am myself. I don’t even feel like I own this body..

I don't even feel I deserve to live.

\---


End file.
